Courier's Gambit
by TheBurningWorld
Summary: After a mysterious group of mercenaries arrive in Goodsprings and try to kill the Courier, he really wonders what he's gotten himself into this time. (Multi-pathway story throughout multiple universes)
1. House Arrest

**So yeah, something new. I was bored.**

Chapter 1

"I was going to let them live. Hell, I was going to let them have the fucking Dam!"

 _-Courier Six, speaking to Sunny Smiles before the Second Battle of Hoover Dam_

 _A few days prior to the events of the Second Battle of Hoover Dam_

The Courier was bored. To the single most powerful figure in the Mojave Wasteland, that was a strange feeling. There were no fiend leaders to kill, no Caesar, (although that didn't stop the Legion hit-squads) no worryingly large packs of Deathclaws, no House, no nothing. As a man that had (probably) the single-most adventurous few months in the last century, having nothing to do was a dangerous oddity. 

He started re-organizing his thoughts. This turned out to be a relatively difficult task due to the 9mm bullet that had been forcibly inserted into his skull courtesy of Benny, and the fact that all of his thoughts focused around doing something other than being bored. Entertaining oneself in the post-apocalyptic wasteland of the southwest United States could go a multitude of ways, but mostly concerned killing something.

After all, that's what he does best.

Behind the charming face and almost unnerving diplomatic skills, he was a killer at heart. He had to be. It's not like he had any choice. The sad thing is, though, is that looking back on what he'd done, he regretted none of it. From slaughtering the Powder Gangers, to letting Deputy Beagle die, to destroying the Securitron Army bunker, to letting one of the Bright Follower's rockets veer off course, he wouldn't change a thing.

So when bullets started flying through the windows and walls of his modest home near Goodsprings, which had grown immensely after he made it one of the more safer settlements in the wasteland. He had no qualms with killing his attackers, regardless of faction.

As his house slowly became Swiss Cheese, he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Beginning with maybe a few Stealth Boys, and ending with death. Lots of death.

He had felt the bullets entering the armor on his back before he heard the shots, as a massive amount of adrenaline entered his bloodstream courtesy of his Pip-Boy, allowing him to spring up from his bed and quickly take aim out one of the windows with one of the random weapons he seemingly produced out of nowhere. This weapon just happened to be Thump-Thump, which would normally be regarded as a bad choice for this situation, was actually not the worst thing he could've drawn out of his coat.

A 40mm grenade sailed through the window farthest from his bed, creating a resounding 'thump' as it detonated, killing three of his attackers. The next weapon he drew was Dinner Bell, which he used to shred two heavily-armored attackers who had taken a fancy to shooting up his wardrobe via the window on the opposing wall of his bedroom. **(Perk: Shotgun Surgeon)** It's a good thing he tended to carry everything on him.

He thought it was perhaps a blessing that he was paranoid. Anyways, he felt naked without his Desert Ranger Combat Armor, and enough weapons to supply a small country.

The plan was obviously to create a huge crossfire kill-zone within his house, which left most of the troopers outside preoccupied with firing as many bullets into his house too busy to notice a window mysteriously open and close.

As he watched the unmarked soldiers slowly become aware of the lack of return fire and explosives coming from the house, they ceased firing. The first squad to enter his home was unfortunate enough to go through the front door, which he had rigged various mines to. The cacophony of explosions was like an angelic chorus to him, leaving dead bodies riddled with shrapnel and piles of goo behind. The next group he watched from his perch farther back, using his binoculars from a ridge above Goodsprings.

They had decided to enter through the windows, leaving them subject to the various shotguns he had attached to near-invisible tripwires, blasting their legs off from various locations once they touched the ground.

The initial force of thirty people was down to around fifteen.

After losing fifteen men and realizing that the Courier was no longer in his house, they began to search the surrounding area.

The Courier had a bad habit about forgetting about the fact that other people tended to get wrapped up in his mess, and once he saw the soldiers heading towards inner Goodsprings, he smacked his forehead against the ground from his prone position.

He traded his binoculars in favor of his suppressed sniper rifle, using the scope to keep a watch on the soldiers. He watched two go into the saloon, and one come out the back. He could only assume that the one inside had gotten to Trudy as well as any patrons, and he saw the second approaching Sunny.

Sunny was somewhat oblivious to what was going on, as explosions and gunfire were common noises as the few remaining Powder Gangers still had small encampments near Goodsprings.

She was currently sitting against the back of the saloon, petting her dog Cheyenne. As the soldier approached she noticed Cheyenne stand up, lay her ears flat, and growl loudly. This was an obvious sign to Sunny, as she stood up quickly and sported her Marksman Carbine (Courtesy of the Courier and the Crimson Caravan Company). She faced the soldier, a muscle-bound man who looked to be mid-thirties.

"Hello, miss. Have you seen a man known as the Courier, or Courier Six?" He asked, politely.

Despite his polite and calm demeanor, she noted how casually he leveled his Riot Shotgun at her and Cheyenne. A lot of people had come through Goodsprings looking for the Courier, and none of it had been good.

Before she could answer, the man dropped to the ground, dead. A round had gone clean through his head, leaving a bloody mess. She looked to the direction that she assumed the bullet to have come from, and saw the small glint of a high-magnification scope. She gave a small wave, knowing who it was.

The Courier knew that it was possible for the other soldiers to see him once Sunny waved at him.

'Shit, scope glint!' He thought, frantically trying to switch to a weapon with a lower magnification scope. Needless to say, he did most of his sniping at night. It was too late, however, as one of the soldiers had seen the scope, and notified the others. It wasn't very long before sheets of lead were sailing mere inches above his head.

'Why are they trying to kill me?!' He thought, before realizing that more than half the people in the nearest few states wanted him dead, and that it was a stupid thought.

He popped a few quick shots off with his sniper, until a round shattered the scope, and nearly his head.

The weapon now rendered useless, he made a rash decision. He didn't have many weapons other than his sniper that were good in long-range combat, and most of them were stored in various safehouses across the wasteland. So, he used one of the many Stealth Boys he had to sneak away. Unfortunately, stealth fields do not protect against bullets. While he was trying to sneak down the small cliff, he was clipped or hit by multiple small rounds that the suppressing LMG was using. He was glad he had one of his best suits of armor on him.

That did not counteract his terrible luck, however. One bullet hit the back of his foot, piercing the combat boot and severing the tendon in the back of his right leg. This caused him to suddenly tumble down the small cliff, and ending in a puff of dust as he got to the bottom. It's a good thing he was invisible, as it ended up looking like a rather large gust of wind had knocked around the dust a bit. One soldier, however, noticed that there was no gust of wind, and went to investigate.

The soldier told the others to stop firing at the ridge as she approached where Courier Six lay. The others looked at her in confusion, but did what she said. She calmly walked towards where he lay, aiming her weapon at his supposedly prone figure. Meanwhile, the other soldiers had gone to search around the town, concluding that their compatriot was delusional. As she reached the prone Courier, she kicked him with her boot, just to see if she was correct.

She was.

"It's not nice to kick a man while he's down, you know." He responded.

She replied in kind by aiming her Assault Carbine nearly point blank at him, allowing him to grab the barrel and yank it from her grasp, shakily rising to his feet and swinging the weapon like a baseball bat. The stock collided with her head, giving her a severe concussion and knocking her out.

'One down, way too fucking many to go.' He thought.

He limped shakily towards the saloon, his Ranger Sequoia slipping from his holster into his hand.

As he pushed open the back door, he nearly ran into the back of a soldier who was guarding around six patrons, all of them huddled in the corner of the room while he stood guard with a Plasma Rifle. He half- turned towards Six as he stumbled through the door, making a moderate amount of noise.

Six was too fast even with his almost useless right leg, however, and had one of his cosmic knives (which didn't seem very threatening) at the man's throat, and his Ranger Sequoia pointed at his head (which did seem very threatening).

"Yo, Arnold? You okay over there?" Another soldier shouted.

"You're fine." Courier Six whispered, not needing to explain.

"I'm fine, Charles!" The soldier/hostage responded.

"Very good." Six whispered, and then pistol-whipped the man, knocking him to the ground. Six was barely able to catch him, and lay him to the ground gently. He added the rifle to his inventory, and told the patrons to stay where they were, which they complied.

He wasn't so clever with the hostages in the next room, opting to simply shoot their captor in the head with his Sequoia, which left a mess on the wall behind the man. He knew the sound wouldn't attract the soldiers in the town, so he took the man's Assault Carbine and fired out one of the windows randomly until the magazine ran dry. He soon heard shouts of confusion nearing him, and he took aim out one of the broken windows. The windows were in the front of the establishment, and the town had mainly expanded in the opposite direction, allowing the Courier a clear view of most of the town.

He took out his own Marksman Carbine and started shooting at the returning soldiers, his slow yet accurate firing only allowing him to only take two down before he was forced into cover by the bullets from the other responding combatants **(Perk: Trigger Discipline)**. One thing that did confuse him, however, is that the other settlers in the town did not fire upon these soldiers. Well, Sunny was an exception. Nonetheless, he knew most of the town was armed to some degree. You had to be, regardless of where you were in the wasteland.

He exited once again through the back entrance, tieing up loose ends by putting a bullet through the head of the man that he had knocked unconscious earlier.

He wanted to finish this quickly. 'Quickly' usually meant his CZ-75 Avenger.

He put on his best suit of power armor, took as many damage-resisting drugs as he had, removed the addiction, fixed his leg, and then burst through the front door.

He didn't stop firing. He felt invincible as he slowly rotated, mowing down any enemies not behind cover. Any enemies behind cover quickly found themselves without cover, and bullets piercing their bodies.

He counted nine or so bodies by the end of his small rampage, and only ten to eleven bullets in him.

'High score for least amount of bullets, terrible score for bodies.' He thought to himself.

He chuckled. He began to actually laugh. His sides began to hurt from laughing, until he realized that those were probably the bullets. It reoccurred to him that he did, indeed have multiple bullet wounds and most likely a few punctured organs, and his Med-X had worn off. He locked his Pip-Boy down...

...And promptly fell face-first onto the ground.

 **Hey guys! Yeah, it's me again. (Without another chapter of OENTID, I may add, sadly.) I know this whole chapter was just a fight scene, and I'm sorry for not having a true beginning / exposition for my Courier. I hope to be getting another chapter of something out soon, although it may being another heinous fanfic I've dreamed up. Shit happens, amirite? Anyways, I hope everyone is happy and healthy, and hope to get something else out for you guys!**

 **Courier's SPECIAL Stats**

 **S: 6**

 **P: 7**

 **E: 6**

 **C: 8**

 **I: 7**

 **A: 6**

 **L: 4**

 **I will make a full list of perks later, as he did do some SPECIAL training to get up to those stats. I hope to not make him completely overpowered, as that's no fun. (However I was modeling the stats after my playthrough.)**

 **=)**

 **-TBW**


	2. Not Strategically Sound

**Hey guys! So, I've decided to do something different with this fanfiction. I'm going to write multiple different beginnings from the first two chapters, and you can tell me which one you liked the best through reviews! I may make this a multi-pathway story, or just go with the one you guys like the best.**

 **Onward, my friends!**

Courier's Gambit

Chapter 2

Six awoke in an all too familiar place. He sat up, wincing as the pain from his wounds returned. His entire torso was bandaged in multiple places, along with his right leg.

'Must be what Joshua feels like all of the time.' He thought, recalling his companion throughout Zion and the surrounding area.

As he swung his legs off of Doc Mitchell's bed, he noticed the dear doctor asleep on the same chair Six had presumed to be the same that he had welcomed him back to the world of the living in, all those months ago. He noticed the only light in the room was the glow of the Vigor-O-Matic, displaying the statistics of the last person who'd used it, which was him.

It was rather nostalgic to look back at how he used to be, his strength only at 4, and his luck at 1.

That had always made him chuckle, looking either at his Pip-Boy, or the machine itself and seeing a luck of 1. He found it rather fitting. Somehow he had ended up with a luck of 4 during his travels, probably due to the multiple times he had been lucky enough to take off a Centurion's head with a suppressed Varmint Rifle.

Ah, those were the days.

After wandering around the familiar house for a few minutes and stretching his muscles, he donned his Desert Ranger Combat Armor and left, leaving a good sum of caps on the bed as he did so. As he exited, his Pip-Boy told him it was around two in the morning. He began to head towards the Saloon to make sure everyone was okay, before first realizing that it was 2AM and no one would be awake, and noticing the bodies of his assailants piled in a small ditch to the side of the road.

He wondered who had sent them, so well equipped and relatively trained. He had a suspicion it was the Brotherhood, but they preferred energy weapons, and most likely would not want to break their fragile friendship. He feared it might be the Enclave he had heard so much about finally trying to spread west, as he had found a map and experimental weapons in a crashed Vertibird to the southeast of the Mojave outpost, as well as tales from caravan leaders.

It could've also been the Legion, but they had far more pressing matters concerning the Hoover Dam, as well as the fact that they would've come dressed in their cobbled-together armor and Roman outfits.

Random raiders could've been the case, but why had they come specifically for him? Plenty of bounties had been placed on him, but none who came to collect them ever came back, scaring off others.

He rummaged through the pockets of the dead soldiers, finding nothing but ammunition and caps, two things he had more than enough of. Eventually he found a crumpled note, and as he unfolded it he recognized the typeface from an incident he had... taken/care of, outside of Jacobstown.

It read:

 _ **Dear Nevada Mercenary Company,**_

 _ **On the behalf of the NCR, we humbly request a deployment of your best mercenaries to Goodsprings, in order to capture and hopefully kill the man known as 'The Courier', or simply 'Six'. Should this be fulfilled, you will receive protection from other factions, as well as a reward of two hundred-thousand caps upon delivery of his body.**_

 _ **Thank you.**_

 _ **Sincerely,**_

 _ **General Oliver, New California Republic**_

'That cowardly son of a bitch!' He thought, and discarded the note. He had backed the NCR for the most part, helping out whenever he could. The thought of him perhaps switching sides had gotten the dear General's panties in a bunch, it would seem.

He knew the people of Goodsprings, nor any of the other fine towns he had visited would really like it, but there would now indeed be a reckoning, and that he would be the one to bring it upon the Legion and NCR alike.

The Second Battle of Hoover Dam was more like the Second Slaughter of the Hoover Dam, as Six had called in all of his favors.

On top of him being completely invisible with an armor-piercing sniper rifle that could punch through power armor without a hitch, he had the Boomer's bomber that he had dragged from the bottom of the lake, and helped repair. It was hardly a fight, to say the least.

He also had the help of the Brotherhood, and put their knights and paladins to good use.

It began relatively quietly, with Six snapping the necks of a few snipers standing guard on the dam itself, and the surrounding area. He put his suppressed 22. to good use, quietly putting down troopers as they wandered away from the main mass of people.

As soon as people started realizing that their men were going missing, the went to full alert. Rangers stationed strategic portions of the dam, waiting for the oncoming attack. A few patrols were sent to investigate, and others reported nothing while others were never heard from again.

He then called in the Brotherhood and the Boomers, the bomber flying over the Legate's camp, dropping as many bombs as its payload could carry, leaving the camp a smoldering ruin. The NCR soldiers were confused for a few moments, and then began cheering, for they had won before the battle had began, it would seem.

Their celebration stopped short as the most heavily-armored troops the Courier had ever seen appeared behind the NCR forces, in tight lockstep as their laser miniguns spat bright red lances of death, and their power armor deflected almost everything the NCR could throw at them. He uncloaked then, and began to rain his fury upon the NCR as well, using his grenade rifle lovingly named Thump-Thump to scatter and disorient forces, and using his large assortment of plasma grenades, rockets, and explosive high-caliber rounds to get the job done. The dam itself suffered no structural damage, as it had been reinforced before the war to withstand nuclear missiles.

His personal rampage stopped short, as the soldiers quickly realized then new #1 NCR's most wanted was currently in one of the watch towers, shooting at them. Nearly the same amount of soldiers focused on the Brotherhood were focused on him, keeping him down with sheet after sheet of lead.

This, however, was where things went wrong. A few troopers began throwing grenades up at him, forcing him to scamper away and let his armor absorb the shrapnel, which it did excellently, until a point was reached where the entire platform he stood upon was full of lit grenades, and going back down the tower was nowhere near a good option, no matter how hard the Brotherhood fought. There was simply too many NCR troopers.

'Maybe I should've thought this through, a little more, eh?' He thought to himself, smirking.

As his brain went into overdrive, he began throwing the lit grenades back out at the troops, until he realized this would not work for long, and decided his fate. He would rather die on his own terms, thank you very much, and so he did. He dove off of the side of the dam, backwards with a mock salute and smirk as he did so. He realized his chance of dieing was far slimmer this way. He wished the Brotherhood good luck as he did so, and closed his eyes as soon as he began descending.

He hit the water of the river hard, the shock knocking the air out of his lungs, and surely breaking something. That something had evidently been his back, and he struggled to move. As he sunk to the bottom of the river, he could only think two things:

 _'Lame. Of all the badass things I've done, and I die like this?'_

As well as:

 _'I hope hell is warmer than this damn river.'_

He began to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

As he slowly approached the light, he decided it wasn't his time. Not yet. He had decided his fate his whole life, and he'd be damned if he wouldn't now. Not when it counted the most.

And instead, he fought the force pulling him towards the blinding light, allowing the dark abyss to swallow him whole.

After all, the opposite of light is darkness, and the opposite of death is life.

 **I hope you guys enjoyed the second chapter, and this is where the story will diverge into different paths for our hero, or perhaps villain? I hope to be doing RWBY, Borderlands, and maybe RvB, to name a few.**

 **AND YES OENTID IS STILL GOING ON, I JUST GET BORED WITH STORIES SOMETIMES AND NEED TO DO SOMETHING NEW TO GENERATE IDEAS OKAY**

 **Love you guys. =)**

 **-TBW**


	3. Time's Conflux

**Hey, another chapter! Whoo. I would like to start on this whole multi-path thing. I was originally going to start with RWBY, however after drafting a chapter I realized I did not like how it turned out. This is going to be the Destiny chapter, so I hope you like it! (P.S. The first chapter was revised minimally to make things match up within the storyline, as they didn't if you looked closely.)**

Courier's Gambit

Chapter 3

Out of the many things the Courier was expecting, being alive was one of them, and laying on a table (soaking wet, mind you) with a robot staring at him was another. He was barely conscious, and could feel the life leaving his body as he stared blankly at the figure.

"Well, that's another thing I haven't seen in a long time." The thing said, in a humorous tone.

"Haven't seen in a long time?" A woman asked, somewhere behind him.

"I believe we have a more pressing issue than going over Cayde's past experiences." A man spoke, and as he slowly entered the Courier's field of view, he was a tank of a man.

"Oh yeah, he's bleeding all over my maps!" The robot exclaimed, frantically grabbing sheets of paper and such out from beneath the Courier.

The man rolled his eyes and as he did so, the Courier, in his daze, noticed the man's blue skin and bright orange pupils. While his facial features were rough and obviously battle-hardened, his expression was compassionate and worrisome.

"Let's get this man some medical attention, Is what I meant." The blue man said as he attempted to hoist the Courier over his shoulder. He obviously struggled, and soon asked for the robot's help.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get moving." Grumbled the robot as he dropped his maps and schematics, and grabbed the Courier's feet. The blue man grabbed the Courier underneath the shoulders, eliciting grumbles of pain from him, due to the one or two bullets lodged in his right shoulder, as well as shrapnel embedded in his left shoulder.

The Courier began to fade out of consciousness as they ascended the stairs into the main area of the tower, and they soon reached the medical facility that was housed within the Speaker's domain. They passed the New Monarchy and went onwards to the large door on the far right, which was open and shining a bright, sterile, white light onto the surrounding area, opening up into a waiting room, and an Awoken woman manning the desk that barred entrance to the medical wards. The whole room was a stark contrast to the tower, with an almost sickeningly neon white color scheme, which while it didn't reek of antiseptics and such, it still gave off the cold feeling that was lacking in the rest of the tower.

The Awoken woman was of very distinct difference compared to the room, with almost purple skin, bright red hair, neon blue eyes, and small white markings around her eyes. Her eyes widened as she saw who was coming through the door, and the state their 'patient' was in. No words were exchanged, and she rushed to get the doors open for them. They nodded respectfully as they passed, and she did the same.

As the two Vanguards laid their recent arrival down upon one of the metal operating tables, and as they did so, an Exo colored red and white rushed over, and began examining the Courier's injuries.

"Long time no see, brother." The exo said as he began to remove pieces of bullets and shrapnel, and sterilize the wounds soon afterwards.

"Yeah. Wish it was under better circumstances, however." Cayde replied.

Commander Zavala raised an eyebrow at this, however said nothing.

"You realize you can visit whenever you want, right? We rarely have an influx of wounded guardians, unless there's been a Crucible mishap."

"Now's really not the time, David." Cayde sighed.

The white and red exo just shrugged as he cleaned off the instruments he used, and soon began examining the bullets and shrapnel that he had pulled out of the Courier. Neither Cayde nor Zavala found the rapid surgery odd, as exo(s) were able to do extremely precise actions with rather unnerving speed and agility, making them both excellent soldiers, and surgeons.

"Ever seen anything like this before?" David said, as he showed the different bullets and shrapnel to the two Vanguards.

"The bullet looks pre-golden age, however i've never seen any grenade use that kind of shrapnel casing." Cayde said, and Commander Zavala nodded his agreement.

"That's what I was thinking. Maybe he was on one of the colonies when the war started?"

"A Ghost wouldn't bring back someone with injuries, and especially not with their gear." Zavala chipped in.

"And that still wouldn't explain how he just appeared on our table." Cayde chipped in.

"He...what?" David said, confused.

"There was a flash of light, and he was...there." Cayde said, and shrugged.

"I know this really isn't my area of expertise, but how are you sure he isn't Taken? That would explain the light."

"The distinct lack of demonic noises and trying to kill us I think means he's not Taken. We haven't even seen a Guardian taken, and as far as I know, the Traveler stops it from happening."

Commander Zavala just bobbed his head in affirmation once again.

There was nothing left to discuss, so the two Vanguards left David to his work, after he told them that he would notify the Vanguard should their new acquaintance wake.

The Courier was dreaming. Well, he couldn't really call it dreaming. He was half conscious, however he was seeing vague outlines of people and familiar voices. He heard Boone, Cass, Veronica, and Raul, among others. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, so he closed his eyes and focused. Once he realized what they were saying, he nearly had a heart attack.

They were saying the last things he ever heard them say before they died.

Boone, a small letter he must've written to his wife.

Cass, a confession of all the things she regretted.

Veronica, an apology to those she had left behind within the Brotherhood.

Raul, a combination of English and Spanish which seemed to be addressing his mother.

He could make out the forms of his other companions through his blurry vision, but with his eyes open he could not focus enough to grab anything that they were saying. He stumbled his way towards who he assumed to be Arcade, but as he made contact, his vision went white.

He was no longer dreaming, nor dead, for that matter. He wasn't so sure on either, but it was a safe assumption.

Where he was, was completely alien. Aside from the green plants that were abundant, he could see he was on some sort of a floating platform. Ahead of him were other platforms which faded in and out of existence. He rose, noticing the lack of pain and the sudden surge of energy coursing through his body.

He quickly looked around, and saw what seemed to be a portal across the gap, on another non-fading platform.

He stopped at the edge of his platform and studied the disappearing platforms. He waited a few minutes, until ascertaining that the pattern was simply one after the other. He began leaping from platform to platform, which was more leaping than he ever cared to do in his lifetime.

He eventually reached the portal, and immediately entered it. His vision went white again, and he could hear a resounding voice in his head. It seemed to echo withing his skull, and it gave him a splitting headache.

" _ **THIS IS NOT YOUR PLACE"**_

His vision returned to normal, and he seemed to be at the beginning of the platform bridge again. He looked about for anything new, but found nothing. As he bounded towards his objective once again, he noticed that the platforms felt less sturdy.

He reached the portal, and the voice returned.

" _ **NOR YOUR TIME"**_

He returned to the platform bridge. Everything was now somewhat decayed, and the green plants and misty air were gone. As he stepped tentatively towards the edge again, he almost fell as a large chunk of the platform broke off and disappeared in the smoky gorge below.

He once again crossed the platforms, each one having small parts breaking off as he landed. He entered the portal once again, which was seemingly malfunctioning.

" _ **YOU CALL YOURSELF A COURIER, BUT THE MESSAGE YOU CARRY-"**_

The voice stopped unexpectedly, and Six was once again traversing platforms, however each fell into the void below as he leaped from the next to the next. He reached the portal platform and as he was sprinting the platform tilted violently, causing the portal to fall into him, rather than him into it.

His vision faded to white once again.

" _ **-IS A DEATH SENTENCE"**_

 **Hello, all! Sorry I ended this with a cliffhanger, but I had to give you motivation to vote! I would appreciate if you could please leave a review either voting for which beginning(s) to continue, or a genuine review! Constructive criticism is appreciated, but not straight up hate. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed, and I am hoping to come out with a RWBY/RvB/Borderlands/Something chapter next!**

 **Ciao!**

 **-TBW**


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